I’ve probably said this before. The saddest thing I’m feeling now is that I have a wife who cannot love me anymore. Dementia has killed that deep mysterious feeling when you love one another. I miss being loved - simple.
And a regret I have is that we didn’t express our love enough when times were normal. But we always took for granted that we had forever but, really, the shows of affection could have been more. I go to visit and I say repeatedly to her, without any hesitation, that I love you and miss you. She smiles and sometimes says ok. I’m trying to “get through” I suppose, to enter that damaged brain, to get her to understand that I love her. It’s not going to work I know but she must know that I’m trying. She say “I’m lovely” so that’s something I suppose.
I’m desperately trying to maintain any special connection that’s left and that makes it uncertain, trying, upsetting certainly and altogether heartbreakingly sad.
And a regret I have is that we didn’t express our love enough when times were normal. But we always took for granted that we had forever but, really, the shows of affection could have been more. I go to visit and I say repeatedly to her, without any hesitation, that I love you and miss you. She smiles and sometimes says ok. I’m trying to “get through” I suppose, to enter that damaged brain, to get her to understand that I love her. It’s not going to work I know but she must know that I’m trying. She say “I’m lovely” so that’s something I suppose.
I’m desperately trying to maintain any special connection that’s left and that makes it uncertain, trying, upsetting certainly and altogether heartbreakingly sad.